The Meaning of Light
by TotalAlias
Summary: Long ago, GIlbert Nightray was brainwashed. What happens when he finally gives in? And whose fault is it really?


**If I owned Pandora Hearts, OzXGil ending. 'Nuff said.**

**-The Meaning of Light-**

* * *

Throbbing. My head is throbbing. It hurts and I don't understand. I don't - _D__o it. Do it now._ But...but that person is... _D__o it. Don't question. Just go._ It hurts. Please Stop. _You can stop when it's over._ But...what - _Go. Don't resist. _It hurts. My head. _Do it. _But what if he...? I don't want this. _You do._ No. _That's not an answer. Get it over with. _But if I do, he will..._ Stop shaking._ But... I'm afraid. I don't know what's happening - _Here's your chance! Do it now!_ No! _Yes!_

Bang.

* * *

Morning. Night. Morning. Night. I don't know how many times, I try not to count. He hasn't spoken to me. I've barely even seen him since. And when I do see him, he avoids my eyes.

But that's understandable. He's hurting right now because of me. I don't know when he's going to forgive me, if he will. I know I don't deserve it but...I'm spoiled.

And it's terribly lonesome here without him.

But I'm nothing so special. Everyone has hardships, who am I to complain? People fall in love and get their hearts ripped out every day. It's happening to someone out there right now, I'm sure of it. There are people with blood on their hands just like me, people who are alone, cold and starving like me. Starving for love, as I am.

Drowning, always drowning, and struggling for breath. I used to drown in emeralds, the most precious jewels in the world. Now I drown, sink, and suffocate in darkness, the light of his eyes doesn't shine on me anymore. Even his back as he turned away lacked its normal luster.

That must be it. That's what changed. She took away his luster. He isn't shiny new and innocent anymore. He's old, broken, damaged. A used toy. He was only a convenience to her. And yet...she seemed to care for him towards the end.

But there's the problem. He loved her. I always suspected he did. More than I could probably imagine. More than he loved me. And I was so selfish and terrible as to take his love away?

* * *

What if I didn't really just want to protect the master? What if I just couldn't handle being tossed aside? Being left behind? He was going to leave me. He was going to leave with her and go off to live his short life and die with her in his happiness. His youthful bliss. And I would be alone again. Wrapped in darkness, but for eternity this time, not just ten years. I can't handle that. I can't be without him again. I can't. Maybe that was the real reason that I... I did what I had to do to keep him. And now it's my fault.

_"Do it. Protect your master. He's all you have."_ I did what you said. And nothing good came of it.

That isn't true. Now he can live. Now he can have a real life. A whole one. He won't be cut down too early; I'll make sure of it.

Don't they say that life is the greatest gift? Why does it seem more like a curse? Maybe that doesn't apply to us. We are too far away from the world of the people who said those words. Being honest and honorable is a much simpler matter for them. The lives they lead really are their greatest gifts. His life was like a gift to me, which is why I went to such lengths to preserve it. But in that, I took the selfish route. Rather than have to live without him, I'm forcing him to live without her. That doesn't seem fair. Who am I to decide such things? I am nothing but an amateur puppeteer, with my gun and my chain. But alas, I am only an amateur, playing with people's lives in my hands.

And now the one who holds my life in his hands is tearing it apart. Because I betrayed his trust, and hers.

She asked me a question once, through her human facade. Since parents are the ones who give us life, are they also the ones who give life meaning? The answer is 'no.' I, with no real parents to speak of, once had a life full of meaning. The best experience that could ever be imagined, the time of my life. I will always remember fondly those five years. They seemed to last forever, but even still, they ended too quickly. My cherished companion, my most _precious_ person was betrayed by the very man who gave him life. Yet another example.

Without my friend beside me, there was no life at all. There were nights and there were days, but never sunshine. It was in the Abyss.

There were, however, nightmares. Terrifying ones. It was because of them that my decade was not spent in total darkness. Instead it was lit by lightning. It would always flash in my eyes as I awoke. "Wake up," it said, "Get going. Are you frightened? So is he."

And there were memories. Memories of when life was wonderful and fun, when we were happy. They were dull, but persistent. Like candles helping me find my way without the lightning. They kept in mind my purpose.

Then he came back. He came back with _her_. Disgusting thing, so preoccupied with discovering her past she forgot that she was stealing away his future. He came back and there was hope for a while, but then things took a turn for the worse. The clock was ticking, ticking. Killing him slowly with each movement. Killing me. I had to break it.

And the nightmares came back. My master was more mature in these, older, wiser, but vulnerable nonetheless. He had virtually no defense against the horrors of that place. I only wanted to save him from the horror.

But I brought a new horror instead. I've taken all his happiness and yanked it away. He must hate me, and for good reason. I hate myself too. What kind of horrible person am I? What kind of villain claims to be in love and then destroys what makes their love happy. He's miserable right now and that's my fault. I'm so sorry, my love. Don't forgive me.

* * *

This chair by the window hasn't moved in an eternity. There's nowhere to go so I might as well stay. I bury my head in my arms and rest them on the sill. That's all I can do. The tears, here they come. No need to hold them back. He won't see them, he's not here. And he won't come. Why would he? He's grieving. Grieving the loss of love and the loss of a best friend.

Something's touched my shoulder. It's startling, I haven't been touched in so long, it seems. But who? And why? Have they not yet realized that I cannot be consoled?

"Gil." His voice is broken. I look up, greeted by a tearstained little face. The most beautiful face in the world. He doesn't say a word, only climbs onto my lap and wraps his little arms around my shoulders. He squeezes, why is he doing this? I am not the one who needs comfort.

His breathing is unsteady. My arm instinctively circles his waist. My other hand moves to stroke his now-tarnished hair. I am not the one who needs comfort. Now's the time, at long last. Now _I _can finally help _him_. "I'm sorry," he says.

Why does he apologize? "No, _I'm _sorry," was my whispered reply.

We don't speak any more after that. Nothing needs to be said. Eventually the sun will rise over the horizon, lighting our lives, never to set before its time.


End file.
